Ryan James
by xxhorriblemusicianxx
Summary: This begins with Ryan having a flashback to when his stepfather was still bullying his mother and him into stealing from pawnshops. It is about his time with his aunt and how exactly he landed in Summerholt and exactly what was done to him there.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

_Two years earlier..._

Ryan looked up from his _Warrior Angel_ comic book. He thought he distinctly heard his name being called from downstairs. Flipping the pages shut, he walked to the top of the stairs and paused.

_That little bastard better get his ass down here now!_

Ryan frowned and shook his head as if to brush off a fly. He put his fingers in his ears as he tripped down the stairs, even though he knew it wouldn't help.

_Why did I ever get involved with that kid? At least he's good for something. But man, once I make it big, I'm out of here. No looking back. Just smooth sailing.  
><em>

Ryan stepped into the kitchen, wincing at the volume of the voice he could hear.

"There you are," his stepfather, James, said, roughly grabbing Ryan by the shoulder in a vise-like grip. He shook Ryan like a dog, cursing at him. "You're going to make me late! Hop in the car."

"I don't want to," Ryan muttered as he covered his face and ears with his hands. His voice was surprisingly deep for his age, but it always cracked, making it harder for his stepfather to take him seriously.

_The little freak doesn't want to? Well that's just fine. He's going to whether he likes it or not._

James yanked Ryan around and dragged him out the door.

"You're going to come, and you're going to help me," James said, his mouth an inch from Ryan's ear.

"Okay, okay," Ryan tried, trying to get his feet under him. His voice cracked.

_Let's see if he behaves now!_

Ryan screwed up his face, trying to brace himself against the barrage of sound that attacked him continually. His stepfather threw him into the back of the truck, and Ryan landed hard on his face. Scrambling to sit up, he caught a glimpse of his mother's pale face. She seemed glued to the front seat, her eyes inscrutable. Ryan flinched as a tense voice washed over him.

_This isn't right. Why does James have to do this? Everything is wrong. All wrong. Ryan shouldn't have to do this. __He's so young. __He's only a little boy.  
><em>

Ryan frowned. He wasn't a little boy. Hadn't he proved that every time he took his stepfather's abuse without complaining? Hadn't he demonstrated maturity beyond his years when he never used his powers for his own evil purposes? Wasn't he told, time and time again, that he was old enough to see the big picture and why he needed to use his powers to help his stepfather? Wasn't his silence enough?


	2. Ch1 Migraines

**Chapter 1**

"_You liar! Now give me the real password! Don't mess with me," James screamed at Ryan as the laptop refused to unlock._

_Ryan flinched, but held his ground as James made as if to slap him across the face._

"_I'm not going to tell you," he said, his voice scared but with a sudden determined edge to it._

"_I swear to God, I'll drop him right now," Debra said wildly, aiming the rifle at Ryan's head._

_Ryan whipped around long enough to shout at her. "Once he's got the money, he's going to kill you!"_

_James went pale and hesitated. "Don't listen to him. He's talking trash to pull us apart. We're just about to hit the jackpot, baby." His voice grew pleading. "All we gotta do is trust each other."_

"_You know, this kid has always freaked me out, but the one thing I'll say about him is he never lies," Debra said with a dangerously cool smile. She completely ignored Ryan, setting the rifle down._

_James suddenly shoved Ryan to the side._

"_You know what?" James asked as he slammed the laptop shut and grabbed the gun. "That's true. He doesn't." _

_With a horrified feeling in his gut, Ryan watched as James aimed the rifle at Debra and pulled the trigger. Debra convulsed and stumbled backward. Like a light switch was turned on, Ryan clicked into action and ran for the door. He could hear James screaming after him._

"_RYAN!" _

_Ryan dived behind the pins in the bowling alley, his heart thumping and his limbs shaking._

"_Can't hide forever," James said. He continued, almost lazily, "You know, your mother really hated you. Kind of sad, having a freak for a son. Come to think about it, I wasn't crazy about you either."_

_Ryan felt a sinking in his stomach as James stalked closer to his hiding place. He looked down the catwalk behind the pins and inched forward cautiously, but James saw him and came after him, pointing the gun. Panting with fear, Ryan scuttled as fast as he could. But James was faster. With a sudden burst of speed, James got ahead of Ryan and stuck the gun through a gap in between two alleys. Ryan froze, his eyes fixated on the muzzle of the rifle. With an evil grin, James' finger tightened on the trigger._

"Ryan! Wake up, honey! You're just having a bad dream," a kindly woman said, gently shaking Ryan awake.

With a flood, reality came rushing back and Ryan sat up, rubbing his eyes. It had been more than a month since his stepfather had killed his stepmother and had tried to kill him, but he still had nightmares about it. Luckily, Clark Kent had been there to save the day, just like any given hero from the _Warrior Angel_ comics.

"Are you okay?" Ryan's aunt asked, looking into his eyes.

Ryan nodded mutely, looking into her eyes. He saw nothing but tenderness there, but he what he heard contradicted what he saw.

_Why did I ever take him in? He's not going to fit in very well. I should have left him with the Children's Protection Services. Maybe that would have worked. At least it would be better than this is working out. I hope he's enjoying himself here._

"Hey," Ryan said, staring even more intently at her. "I'm happy here. It's great. I really love Edge City."

_Can he read minds or something? He really is strange._

On the outside, Ryan's aunt smiled tightly and patted his head awkwardly.

"I'm glad, sweetheart," she said. "Come down to breakfast when you feel like it."

"See you in a little bit," Ryan said softly as she stood and walked out. Once she was gone, he threw himself back onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. He knew what was coming, and, sure enough, he only had a second's warning of lightheadedness before his brain seemed to explode.

Gasping, Ryan pressed his hands against his temples, as if he were trying to press his head back together. The pain hammered at him from all angles. He screwed his eyes up, trying not to make a sound. He didn't want his aunt sending him off somewhere.

Fading in and out of reality, his mind subconsciously brought back memories of when his stepmother had found him at the Kents'.

"_Hi, I'm from child protection services. I'm here to pick up Ryan," Debra said with a sickeningly sweet smile._

"_Aren't you early?" Mrs. Kent asked, puzzled, reluctant to let her in. Ryan looked at Debra, who glared at him pointedly._

Ryan's head gave a vicious throb and he buried his head in his pillow. The world dissolved into a swirl of colors again.

"_I'm sorry," Debra simpered. "We need to get him placed as soon as possible."_

_Mrs. Kent tried a different tack. "Can he wait until our son gets home?"_

"_No, we really should be going. I'm sorry," Debra said, extending her hand toward Ryan. _

Ryan pulled himself out of the memory with effort and lay on his stomach, sweating lightly. The last lingering aches of his migraine were fading slowly. He slowly opened his eyes, blinking at the light that streamed in his window.

"Ryan," his aunt called from downstairs. "Are you coming yet?"

"Sure," Ryan yelled back, his voice tight and painful to his ears.

Ryan got up and walked over to his mirror, trying not to stumble. He was still unsteady and couldn't seem to walk in a straight line. When he got to the mirror, he stared, hardly recognizing himself. His hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, his pupils almost obliterated his green irises, and his skin was unnaturally pale and clammy.

Unsettled, Ryan rubbed his hands over his arms, and then he took off his shirt. The fading bruises and cuts from his stepfather's abuse hit a nerve deep inside him. He hurriedly pulled on a clean polo and traipsed downstairs, armed with a new smile.

"There you are," his aunt said, returning the smile as he cautiously sat down at the white kitchen table.

_The food's going to be cold! I can't allow him to be late to every meal!_

"I'm sorry I'm late," Ryan said, inhaling the aroma of crisp bacon, a Spanish omelet, and some deliciously buttered rye toast.

"That's fine for now," his aunt soothed. "Just sit down and eat. You look like you need some nourishment."

_He's so skinny. And he really doesn't look well. I wonder if I should take him to a doctor. Maybe those Gibsons did more harm than we thought._

"No doctor," Ryan said, alarmed.

His aunt stared at him with a mixture of alarm and surprise. "What?"

Ryan backpedaled quickly. "I mean, you just had that look in your eye that I saw in my mother's eye every time she thought I was ill and needed a doctor. I hate them."

"Okay," his aunt said. "No doctors." She stood up to wash the dishes, and Ryan noticed that her hands were shaking.

_Something creepy is going on._

Ryan paused, bacon halfway to his mouth. He had to formulate his words carefully.

"If I were to get sick," he started, and then he stopped. "If I were to need a doctor, what would you do?"

"Take you to a doctor, of course," his aunt said, sitting down across from him and staring into his eyes with a searching glance that didn't comfort Ryan at all.

_Why is he asking these questions?_

"What sort of doctor?" Ryan asked, watching his aunt's expression carefully.

_I'd take him to a psychiatrist, most likely._

"Well that would depend on what specialist you needed to see," his aunt said, formulating her words with precision. She leaned forward, tilting her head. "What brought this on?"

"Nothing," Ryan said, staring down at his plate. He didn't feel much like eating anymore.

_I'm sure it's nothing. What is he hiding? I hope there's nothing seriously wrong. I can't stand this task of raising a child. It's too overwhelming._

"You would never hand me off to someone, right?" Ryan said, startled. He backtracked even before his aunt had a chance to answer. "I mean, I know a lot of new parents can't handle the responsibilities that come with a kid."

"Of course I would never hand you off," his aunt said. But she was eyeing him with a look that he didn't like.

_I wouldn't hand him off unless there was someone who could handle him better than I can. That would probably encompass most of Edge City's population, though. That's not something he needs to know now._

"You look like you need a sugar fix," Ryan's aunt said, standing suddenly. She dismissed the subject as she rooted around in her freezer.

_All kids love pistachio ice cream for breakfast. This should be great!_

"I hate pistachios," Ryan burst out.

His aunt spun around, the green container in her hands, her mouth a perfect 'O.'

Ryan winced inwardly. "I saw it in the freezer last night," he tried to explain.

"Okay," his aunt said hesitantly. "Do you like cake?"

_This kid keeps getting weirder and weirder._

"Yeah, sure. Cake is fine," Ryan said quietly. It was best not to rock the boat any more this morning.

After breakfast, Ryan helped clear the table and finish the dishes before heading back up to his bedroom. He stared out the window across the street at some boys his age playing basketball. The thudding of the ball only served to remind Ryan that he was secluded in the little room his aunt had fixed off the attic. Ryan furrowed his brow. If only he were normal. Everything would be okay if he were only just like any other boy his age.

Turning away from the window, Ryan sighed and flopped back down on the bed. He picked up one of his comics, but could only stare dully at it. It held no interest for once. Worried thoughts plagued his mind. What if his aunt decided that he was too weird and sold him to some black market? What if somebody found out he was really, truly different? What if he discovered something that he didn't want to hear?

Staring up at the ceiling, Ryan found no answers. But when he was called down to start his chores, he paused before leaving his bedroom. The last question nagged at him. _What if the migraines got worse?_

_**A/N: I really hit my stride with this, which means I did not take a long time to review for typos. So I apologize in advance for any that you might find.**  
><em>


	3. Ch2 Revelation

**Chapter 2**

When Ryan was mowing the lawn, one of the kids from across the street came over.

"Hey," he said, stopping in front of Ryan. "Wanna play?" His jovial tune belied the antagonism radiating from him.

_Why do I always have to be the nice one? Well, at least nobody can say I didn't try._

"No," Ryan said with a tight smile. "Thanks anyway." He couldn't help but add, "It was really nice of you to offer. Nobody can say you didn't try."

The kid looked startled. Ryan's head throbbed as a disjointed version of the kid's voice floated through his brain.

_Weird. That was almost exactly what I had just been thinking. This kid is crazy._

"I'm a little crazy," Ryan said quietly, praying that he wouldn't have a migraine attack in front of the boy. "I suggest you go now."

"Ok," the kid said, his fake smile finally wavering. "Nice meeting you."

"You too." Ryan watched as the boy scampered across the two lanes of traffic and whispered into the ear of one of his buddies, pointing at Ryan.

Ryan turned back to his work with a sigh. The kid was right-he wasn't normal. He frowned, pushing the mower with a newfound tension in his face. His head was throbbing again. He paused, pressing his fist against his temple.

"Ryan?" Ryan's aunt stepped out onto the porch. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Ryan said, inwardly groaning at the bad timing. "Really." He flinched as an angry voice barraged him.

_What did he say to that kid? If he's scared the Mullens' boy, there will be trouble._

_Why won't he just tell me what's wrong? What does he think I'm going to do to him?_

Ryan looked at his aunt. What harm, really, could she do if she knew?

"Why don't you sit down and tell me what's bugging you," Ryan's aunt said kindly, sitting down on the front steps and patting the concrete next to her.

_I have to stay calm. Ryan won't tell me anything if he thinks I'm going to overreact. Deep breath._

Ryan shut off the throttle on the mower and traipsed over to where his aunt sat. With a sigh, he sank to the ground, playing with a piece of leaf. How did one start to explain something like that? It wouldn't be a case of "hey, I can read minds!" It would have to be done carefully. The last thing Ryan needed was his aunt freaking out on him and sending him off to some research institute or someplace equally as horrible.

"Really. I think I can handle whatever it is you need to tell me," Ryan's aunt said.

Ryan dodged her hand as she tried to ruffle his hair. He swallowed nervously, ignoring the hurt look on her face.

"You're right," he began hesitantly. "I have something pretty important to tell you."

"It sounds like it's serious," his aunt said. Ryan could hear her scoff, though.

_All this fuss for nothing, I'm sure. How bad could a little kid's problems be?_

"Actually, not bad," Ryan said, ignoring the shock that spread across his aunt's face. "But pretty heavy."

"You can read minds," his aunt breathed.

"Well, yeah," Ryan hedged. "I guess."

_What a little freak! He's just making this up to scare me._

"Actually, I'm not," Ryan said, staring down the street. He knew she'd react this way. Why did he have to run his mouth? She had been nowhere near ready to hear this.

"I'm sorry," Ryan's aunt said. "I just find this too hard to believe."

Ryan hugged his knees to his chest as his aunt stood up and paced agitatedly around him in circles. Minutes passed. Ryan's heart was starting to pound. His aunt's thoughts barraged him.

_How did my sister's kid-? What-? How-? This isn't happening. It's not possible. Is it? What's going on? This is Ryan! I've known this kid for ages. There's no way that he's telling the truth. Maybe this is why James hated him. He's a liar. But what if he's telling the truth?_

"When did this start?" She finally broke her silence.

Ryan breathed a sigh of relief. She didn't sound too angry—just completely lost and confused. He could deal with that better than he could handle an angry adult.

"When the meteor rocks struck Smallville," he responded. "I used to wake up with a huge pressure in my head."

"Why?" Ryan's aunt interrupted.

Ryan paused. "I don't know. All I know Is that the pressure eventually went away and I could suddenly hear people's thoughts."

_He can hear my thoughts? How does a headache become a superhuman power? Could this happen to me?_

Ryan took pity on her.

"Yes," he said gently. "I can hear your thoughts. But I don't know how a headache became this. I'm pretty sure that it won't happen to you, though."

"How do the voices sound?" Ryan's aunt asked, curiosity battling worry and anger in her face.

"Well it sounds like the person's voice, only as if they're holding something up against their mouth," Ryan said.

_Wait—he can hear voices. That's bad, right?_

"I swear I'm not imagining things," Ryan said, shifting his gaze to his aunt's eyes. "Really."

"I just don't know," she said, breaking his trust with those three words. "I just don't know what's going to happen."

"You won't send me away, will you?" Ryan asked, his voice growing high and frightened. "Please don't send me away."

_I don't want to, but I don't think I can live with someone who can read my every thought and know everything about me._

"I can't hear everything," Ryan said, almost pleading. "I can only hear the things you are thinking at the time that I'm standing near you."

"Well, we'll discuss it later," his aunt said, finally stopping her nervous pacing.

Ryan watched his aunt as she gave him a once over before walking into the house. She slammed the door behind her, leaving an echoing feeling in Ryan's bones.

"Please don't send me away," he whispered.


End file.
